


A Dog's Honesty

by thedragontongue



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 7x06, DONT READ UNLESS YOU WATCHED, F/M, Season 7 Episode 6 of GOT, will have content based on 7x07 in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedragontongue/pseuds/thedragontongue
Summary: Indecision still gnaws at Sandor's thoughts as he unexpectedly finds himself heading towards places he'd never thought of visiting nor returning to for quite some time.  The Hound has been honest all his life or least tried to be to the best of his formerly inebriated intentions.





	1. Beyond the Wall

“I fucking hate gingers.” The Hound spat at Tormund and trudged on through the snow. Tormund smiled to himself while looking at the Hound, who looked more like a Dog who poorly tried to keep his distance from him. Tormund saw how the wind and snow easily clouded The Dog’s vision, chilling him to the bone due to lack of experience. It was so easy to catch up right behind the hulking man.  

“I bet there’s a woman you really fancy with ginger hair but you’re too chicken-shit to admit it to anyone out loud.” Tormund murmured at The Dog with a smirk.

 The Dog snarled and stopped beside the wildling sizing him up. His eyes now a-light with vivid memories attached to a great deal of anger and pain.  That at least, Tormund could see plainly but he wanted more:  A name and a story to go with it. 

“So go on, tell me!” Tormund shoved his face closer to The Dog's with a smile, not caring about the consequences of his actions.  He was truly curious.  “I told you who I want to marry and have babies with, the big blonde woman!” Tormund prodded him as the group passed them. Only Jon Snow gave a second glance at them out of curiosity but carried on.

The Dog crossed his arms and looked down at Tormund.  “Now why would I tell a fucking cunt who I just met, like you, who I fancy hm?” He replied flatly as he started to walk again.  Tormund shrugged to himself, the wind and snow were beating down on them harder as they caught up to the group. “There are slim chances that we’d make it out of this alive. Why not?” They were now walking side by side, the rest of group only five or more paces in front of  them.  
  
" Come on, its not like you fancy someone outrageous?" Tormund jested. "I mean, did you fuck a Bear too?"  The Dog gave him a great frown. Clearly he didn't find it funny nor interesting. Still despite his jest, The Dog walked beside him; silent for while most likely in thought. Tormund brushed away the snow that started to pile up on his beard, getting agitated from lack of conversation he started to stare, hoping that The Dog would eventually notice his dedication and reply to sate his curiosity.

“Sansa.” The Dog said, softly. "I can't believe I'm telling _you_ of all people this---." 

“Sansa.” Tormund’s eyes widened. This was it. He had a name but wait didn't he hear that name before?  “Sansa…?”

“Sansa Stark.” The Dog said, even softer. He couldn't even look Tormund in the eye. 

 “Sansa fucking Stark!” Tormund blurted out loud with glee. The story was already written, almost as if it was a tale to tell a wee babe. 

The Dog clenched his fist and pulled the red-faced Tormund close, either to punch him or shut him up before he could do or say any worse. 

The group stopped and looked at them. “What about my sister?” Jon Snow asked, clearly confused. 

“Nothing.” The Dog said and threw Tormund into the snow. Jon looked over at a smug Tormund who got up from the ground.   
  
“Just discussing the previous events of Winterfell.” Tormund retorted, shaking off the clumps of snow that stuck to his clothing. 

“Let’s just get on with it.” The Dog grumbled, shoving past the group, leading the front with Jon Snow in tow. The Dog, however, fell behind again right next to Tormund.

“You think you’ll ever see her again?” Tormund questioned, his curiosity and jesting sated, minimized by the grim possibilities ahead of them.  

“Who knows, we’ll likely be dead soon.” The Dog said. They could barely see what was in front of them. Tormund didn’t reply to The Dog  this time, he didn’t how to.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That "I fucking hate gingers." comment Sandor made in the episode automatically made me think of Sansa. I HOPE he referenced Sansa, when saying that at least. Who knows...I'm probably overthinking it. Anyways, this what I wanted to happen during 7x06.
> 
> Comments are welcome, hope you're interested for more. 
> 
> August 29th Update: I thought about just having two chapters but the finale made me want to write more than what was planned! Hope everyone stays tuned.


	2. Decisions

The wildling, Tormund, quickly caught up to Sandor as he walked away from Eastwatch. Sandor knew it was the Wildling because he recognized his scent and heard his heavy boots crunch the snow and furs shake against the wind only a few steps behind him. 

 “I owe you, Dog.” He said. 

Sandor grumbled and pulled his sack of food and clothes that was slung against his back closer. He turned around to face the wildling. 

 “No, you don’t. Anyone would have done the same. Now why in the seven hells are still you following me?” Sandor clutched the twine strap of the bag in his hands tight, turning his back once more on Tormund and walked away.   

 “I figured you’d need an escort to Winterfell. I also want to see my darling Brienne again too." The wildling said and to Sandor's dismay ran up with odd ease  in front of him, blocking his path. "It's the least I could do.”

Sandor scoffed, looking at the wildling who got up in his face again. He saw in Tormund's eyes that he truly meant what he said. He was intent on the journey. The Hound then looked at the wildling’s head, wrapped in a makeshift bandage and the other cuts on his face was cleaned and blotched with salves with what Eastwatch had had left.  
  
Tormund grinned at him and whispered. "Come now,I can tell you've grown accustomed to me." Sandor breathed in the cold air and sighed as stepped aside but was still blocked by the wildling.  
  
“You’re not going to Winterfell, are you?” The wildling said incredulously. Sandor stared blankly at him then looked away.  “You have no idea where you’re going either---.” The Hound wanted to throw Tormund into the snow again.  Sandor continued walking, leaving a stunned Tormund in the snow who hopefully wouldn’t follow him anymore.  Unfortunately, the wildling continued to follow him because of his silence, walking right next to him like before past the wall.  Tormund's persistence annoyed Sandor to no end. 

“Why do you care so damn much, hm?” Sandor spat, breaking the silence between them. Another snow storm loomed in the distance. 

“Don’t you want to see your Sansa Stark?” The wildling asked. “After all, we are alive.”

Sandor grumbled. “She’ll won’t remember a dog like me. She probably hates me just like her little sister. No point to go, I’ve done my duty. I went past the wall.”

Tormund huff, probably trying to figure out what to say to him.

“You’re running away. There’s a purpose to everything now. Why not see it through?” Tormund asked further. 

Sandor was silent.

“You don’t want to head to Winterfell? Fine." Tormund reasoned with him. "Go with Jon Snow and head with them to Kingslanding. Better to go there then go nowhere. If you don’t like where it’s going leave them afterwards.”

Sandor looked back towards Eastwatch's docks where the wind swayed the dark ship. It’s black and red sails billowed fiercely; the sigil of the three-headed dragon, the mark of the Queen who saved them.

Sandor looked forward then, looking at the snowy cold road that was surrounded by a large patchy forest that swallowed his intended path and then some. 

“I hate you.” Sandor rasped at the Wildling who smiled back at him in his own strange way. Tormund chuckled and walked back with Sandor to Eastwatch’s docks.

Sandor now  on-board the deck of the  Dragon Queen's ship checked his belongings to see if he had everything before the ship would soon depart. “You’re not coming?” He asked to Tormund, who was stopped at front of the docks by another wildling who looked worried.

Tormund stopped talking to the other wildling and replied loudly to him. “No. It also seems I can’t go to Winterfell either, I’m needed here. Besides, fuck Kingslanding! I've heard the worst about that shithole, at least this shithole is slightly better.”

Sandor grinned in agreement.  “Aye.” He yelled back to Tormund. They both nodded at each other, never saying a parting word nor a goodbye as Sandor headed down to the lower deck of the ship to keep an eye on the Wight.

A couple of days later they docked at Dragonstone to gather themselves. They needed it. The Dragon Queen tended to her dragons, subjects, and even Jon Snow. At least, that’s what he heard from those who spoke in common tongue.

More days past and Sandor found himself not wanting to stay inside the Dragonstone keep any longer. He asked for little to sleep outside and the Dragon Queen’s servants more than happily obliged.  Save for the Dothraki who peered at him whenever he got too close to their hoard who preferred to stay outside as well. The only time Sandor came inside was for eating, shitting, or when it rained.

Another day passed to Clegane’s discontent and he walked over to the ship that kept the Wight. His sword attached to his side, the scabbard lightly ringing as he walked. The ship was guarded everyday but Sandor made sure to check the box that held the Wight personally. The guards let him onto the ship as usual and headed down to the lower deck that held the boxed Wight and other necessities for the trip to come.

“Sandor Clegane.” A voice came out of the shadows on the deck. The fire in the few lanterns that were hung around the walls cast off shadows that made the man who called out to him appear as if he was as big as himself. He knew who it was though, he remembered that voice.  
  
“Tyrion Lannister.” Sandor said. The Imp stepped out of the shadows, the low light shined against the glint of his half full silver chalice that had dark red wine inside. What was even more interesting was the silver pin of the hand that was still on his chest.

“I thought you were dead.” The Imp said, sipping his wine and walked over to the box where Clegane stood nearby. “I meant to talk to you earlier when you first arrived and other times but certain duties always came in the way.” Tyrion now gulped down the last bit of wine in his fancy cup as Sandor  stood, looking down at him.

“You’re wondering why I’m still here?” Sandor said flatly to the little man. Tyrion put down the cup ontop of the box that now rattled terribly. Tyrion looked at the box and then to Clegane.

“Well, yes, I am curious.” He said plainly. 

“Figured I’d go down fighting than running away. I’m done with that.”  Sandor replied. 

Tyrion smiled. “Good man. That’s why I’m here too, that’s why anyone is here really. Oh, not to mention, we set out for Kingslanding in just a few. The rest our companions should be onboard soon.”

“Fucking finally.” Sandor said and grabbed his sword hilt in anticipation. “Took you all bloody long enough.”

"I for one didn't want to deal with Cersei but the Queen has other plans." Tyrion pointed out as he smoothed the wrinkles on his clothes and straightened his silver pin. “I have other matters to attend to on deck but before I leave, I personally want to thank you.”

“What for?” Sandor asked. 

“Sansa Stark. She told me one day about you when we married.” Tyrion said nonchalantly. "It was rather a strange late night conversation but curiosity does get the best of us. She had asked me if I had seen where you went during the battle to which I replied, I was focusing on not dying. A small smile crept on her lips and then apologized. I also curious pressed her further about the issue and she then told me of the other times I wasn't there to help her but you were."

“Married?” Sandor rasped. This was another shock to him, as Tormund told him of what happened to the little bird in the Bolton's Keep when they arrived back at the Wall, weeks prior. These stories, sadly true, infuriated him---conjuring  maddening thoughts that he tried to silence.  

“Oh, that? You're focusing on that? Well, we didn’t consummate if that’s what you’re wondering."

The Hound cleared his throat as there was an awkward pause between them. Sandor didn't know what to say to rest of the information Tyrion told him. Kindness, whether given or received was still a stranger to him. It always was and always will be.    
  
"---She also told me about the offer you made to  her that one night.” Tyrion continued on. "How generous of you."

“ Listen, Imp, I don’t need your thanks in any way you put them or how many you give.” Sandor said gruffly. “I was just doing my duty. Like I have always done no matter who I was protecting or otherwise.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes at him. “Seems more than protection and more so affection towards her---” Tyrion smiled to a glaring Sandor. “but I digress with such matters. I thank you still regardless of your acceptance or non-acceptance of such thanks to protect Sansa. She is _quite_ the woman. I wonder what has become of her now that she has finally returned to her rightful home. No doubt ruling Winterfell in clarity with ample protection. I wonder further, however,  what will happen to her if such protection wanes as they so often do."

Chatter rose on the main deck, levels above them as the ship started to move out towards open water. 

“I see the rest has found their way here.” The Imp moved around him. "Perhaps, think on my words?" Tyrion said  as he headed upstairs to the top deck to meet his fellow colleagues leaving Sandor alone.

 “Bugger.” Sandor said, kicking the box.  The Wight shook inside terribly causing the Lannister’s abandoned cup to fall onto the floor, rolling away with the sway of the ship. Sandor cursed once more, his thoughts of Sansa consumed his mind again and headed upstairs to join the others.

Sandor saw Mormont, the Queen’s Advisors, the Onion Knight, the Imp, and Jon Snow. The Stark bastard looked better, the color returned to his face. He looked past them to see workers and the Dothraki scattered about on the ship. The Dothraki were the ones who stared directly at him first, they always did. Sandor grimaced and looked over to the helm, Theon Greyjoy was directing a man who was at the wheel of the ship.

“Where’s your Queen?” He asked them. He headed to closest side of the ship and saw that behind them only a couple of ships followed.

“She’ll be at Kingslanding on her own time.” Jon said.

“Our Queen will be riding Drogon and bringing Rhaegal with her.” Mormont said. “We need to show Cersei the full force of Daenarys’ might.”

“It still doesn’t make me feel better that were walking into a highly possible trap.” Tyrion replied to them all.

“The sooner we get there the better we can figure out what Cersei's up to.” The Onion Knight said. Sandor still stood at the side of the ship to watch the horizon. He heard the group behind him dissipating and someone walking towards him.

Jon Snow rested his arms ontop of the railing nearby him. “I didn’t think you’d come with us but I’m glad you did. We could use all the help we can get.”

Sandor grunted. “Whatever it takes to make sure those fuckers don’t kill us all.”

He thought about the sight of wights overwhelming Sansa at Winterfell. _Sansa’s lifeless body covered in snow, the wind lightly tussling her auburn hair; revealing her face and cold blue eyes frozen over._

“Aye.” Jon replied, bringing Sandor back to his senses. “I also wanted to thank you. When Sansa and I returned to Winterfell, I remember she told me about what you've done."

Sandor laughed hoarsely, baring his teeth and barked. “Is everyone just going to bloody thank me?”

 "Its possible." Jon shrugged. "You saved her life and now others when you didn't need too. It made me realize she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for--- "

Sandor stopped Snow, his eyes watching the surface of the salt water as he replied. “She took care of herself most times.”

“Yes, most times she does.” Jon replied back quickly. Sandor could feel Snow's judgmental gaze on him.  “That’s why you’re welcome to join us at Winterfell if we’re still alive after this.”

“I don’t belong anywhere, what makes Winterfell different?” Sandor told the Bastard straight to his face. 

“You’d be Sansa’s sworn shield. Brienne of Tarth watches over her but extra dedicated protection at times like these are needed for my sister.” Jon Snow offered him. 

Sandor tried to speak but Jon cut him off.  
  
“I know what you are and what you've done but you’ve changed." Jon Snow said. "I heard about it and now I see it. You have a soft spot for Sansa and could never hurt her either.” 

“I’ll think about your offer.” Sandor rasped in return and they parted ways.  The Hound headed towards the front of the ship to be alone, imagining what it would be like to be with her again.

_Would she welcome him with open arms as he entered Winterfell’s halls and swore to be her shield?  The possibility of her lips on his, her pretty voice humming to him as they lay together in bed. Her arms wrapped around him._

_Or would she refuse him? Would his face be just another hurtful reminder of the past she’d like to forget. She would have changed by now just as much as he did. He could hear her voice cold as steel and see her skin clear as porcelain refuse him outright despite Snow’s decree._

The possibilities of what she would say haunted him.  
  
_I hate you. I despise you. I don’t want to see you. I’ve grown. I have no use for a mongrel like you. You’re just another monster._

Sandor shook his head trying to let go of those thoughts. He walked around the ship, down through every level and back up again listening to the all sounds until sunset and supper came. He even conversed with the Onion Knight once or twice. By then the thoughts that plagued The Hound were nearly silent and he, himself, was tired because of it.  Unsurprisingly, he was the only one who chose to sleep on the deck that held the box every night.  
  
Four days passed with a blur until he heard Theon say to everyone they'll reach Kingslanding by mid-afternoon tomorrow. It was somehow night again as Clegane sat down on the floor preparing to sleep. His back laid against the ship’s side, the wood creaking as the waves crashed against the hull. Sandor closed his eyes only to hear the Wight hiss inside the box. Sandor slept like he did usually those past nights, uneasy and ready to kill at a moments notice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lordt almighty, tons of exposition in this chapter. I had to write it though because it really made me think why Sandor chose to go with them to Kingslanding instead of Winterfell or somewhere else. 
> 
> Anyways, chapter 3 will be Brienne's POV and Sandor's POV (or maybe only Sandor's POV I still haven't decided) during the Dragonpit scenes. 
> 
> Comments are welcome, like always. :)

**Author's Note:**

> That "I fucking hate gingers." comment Sandor made in the episode automatically made me think of Sansa. I HOPE he referenced Sansa, when saying that at least. Who knows...I'm probably overthinking it. Anyways, this what I wanted to happen during 7x06.
> 
> Comments are welcome, hope you're interested for more. 
> 
> August 29th Update: I thought about just having two chapters but the finale made me want to write more than what was planned! Hope everyone stays tuned.


End file.
